⚠️ Trigger Warning: This post contains personal experiences related to anxiety, overwhelm, and emotional release. Please take care of your mental space as you read.
Disclaimer:
I’m not a doctor, therapist, or licensed mental health professional. I’m just a mom living with anxiety, sharing my personal experiences in hopes that they help someone else feel less alone. Nothing in this blog should be taken as medical advice. Please speak with a professional if you’re struggling — you deserve support.
🫧 It just hits me
There are days I wake up already on the verge of tears.
No warning. No fight. No “bad news.” Just a heaviness in my chest that won’t go away.
And sometimes… I cry. And I can’t even tell you why.
There’s no one thing.
There’s no big trigger.
There’s just… everything. All at once.
💔 It feels like this:
- My throat tightens.
- My chest feels like it’s holding in a scream.
- My thoughts start spinning.
- I feel guilty for crying — like I “should” be fine.
- I feel embarrassed even when I’m alone.
And sometimes, I cry quietly in the bathroom so no one sees.
Sometimes, I cry in the car after holding it in all day.
And sometimes, I just cry in bed because I don’t have the strength to do anything else.
🧠 What I’ve realized over time:
Sometimes the tears are for things I never had the chance to process.
Sometimes they’re for the fear I carry in silence.
Sometimes they’re for the pressure of being “strong” when I feel anything but.
Sometimes they’re just because I’m exhausted.
Crying isn’t weakness.
It’s your nervous system trying to reset.
It’s your body asking for grace.
It’s your soul waving a little white flag saying, “I just need a minute.”
💡 What helps when the tears come:
- I stop asking “why” and just let it happen.
- I talk to myself the way I’d talk to a friend: “It’s okay to feel this. It’s okay to not have a reason.”
- I do something small that brings me back: wash my face, change my shirt, step outside, hug my kids.
- I don’t shame myself for being human.
🖤 You’re allowed to feel it.
Even when it doesn’t make sense.
Even when it feels “dramatic.”
Even when no one else sees what you’re carrying.
This is your reminder that tears are not a failure.
They are a release.
They are a reset.
They are real.
And if you cried today — or cry after reading this — that’s okay.
Me too.
Leave a Reply